Tall Man: A Character

tall_man“Man, you’re fucking tall,” they’d say. Next was, “What?! You don’t play basketball?!” as if their minds were actually on the verge of exploding at the absurdity of it. Where can you hide when you dwarf nearly everyone in your town? How could one’s entire existence be distilled down to how far one’s head was from the ground? Nobody cared about the paper bag placed in the white plastic bag that he religiously carried with him. He was big enough to hold most grown men like babies, an urge he fought like the urge to let that paper bag go.

Grant recommended doing some flash fiction for the shortest day of the year. I took him up on that. This might be the beginning of some character development for a [short] story. We’ll see.

  • dogtrax

    And a flash fiction response story:

    It was always the same. Everywhere she went, she looked up, and ignored the eyes looking down at her. It was not something she could change, after all. Nature had a stronger show in this poker hand than she did, and so, she had come to live with, if not accept, the curious looks and awkward glances. Still, she had learned to use it to her advantage. Nature. Nurture. She found a balance. It was always difficult for them to keep their game face on with her in the midst at the table, propped up on her knees on the swivel chairs, and most nights, she went home flush and if not happy, at least satisfied that her wits and insights were almost always superior to anyone else’s. Until he came along.


    • luhoka

      I like the idea of responding to stories with stories–thanks Kevin!